Oh, shiny new replacement computer, what a LOT of ranting you are going to process today.
Let’s begin with the fact that you need to exist. And that the bargain model I bought last freaking year, 13 months ago (which means one month past the freaking warranty expiration) was supposed to be a great deal. But two netbooks, stripped down to fit my pathetic budget bought within 14 months, means there will be no Christmas, no Hannukah, no new shoes—not even to replace all our white shoes after Labor Day—probably ever again. So screw your predecessor, screw you for existing, and screw you for being so much freaking better than last year’s model. And $10 cheaper. Bastard ‘pooter. I already don’t like you.
And you, Mother’s Day expectations…you suck. Because I hate Hallmark holidays and refuse to purchase Hallmarkiness in response to fabricated sentiment, I feel dirty for looking forward to Mother’s Day. I feel dirty for telling Spouse exactly what I wanted him and Peanut to make me. I feel cheap and hypocritical for smiling every time some says Happy Mother’s Day. And I feel really cheated that I didn’t get to sleep in, didn’t get a second to myself, didn’t get a shower, made my own breakfast (which the Spouse and Peanut refused to eat, thank you very much, to pour insult unctiously over injury). Sure, I have two beautiful, healthy, interesting, adorable, intriguing children to share the day with. And I’m finally, finally, finally home so I could spend the day with my mom and her mom. Everyone’s healthy and happy and really freaking lucky all ’round. But the Hallmarkiness of the holiday is centered around well rested and clean moms, yo. And I felt like a dolt for buying into that shite. I don’t sleep or shower or get any chef appreciation any other day of the year, so how dare I expect it on Mother’s Day?
You know what, I’m gonna leave it at that, ‘pooter. Cuz I don’t think you could handle a rant about all the other stuff making me a sourpuss today. And I can’t afford to lose another of your kind, you little technological bastard.